


All I See Is Him And Me

by bottleredhead



Series: We are the martyred sinners, darling. [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotp, Canon Era, Enjolras is an asshole but whats new, For the love of God, Grantaire & Éponine Thénardier Friendship, Grantaire is an idiot but you already knew that, Grantaire's sister kicks ass, I don't know how this happened, Kidfic, M/M, Unplanned Pregnancy, stupid revolutionaries are stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottleredhead/pseuds/bottleredhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The girl goes on to list each Amis member by characteristic or trait before stopping in front of Enjolras. Her brow wrinkles, lips pursing in confusion as she surveys him from head to toe, far more boldly than any girl her age could or should. “I’m sorry,” she says, voice lilting as her eyes slant dangerously towards her brother. “I do not believe I’ve been told of you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I See Is Him And Me

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon time: Grantaire's sister is very cheeky and does not act like 'proper young ladies' should.
> 
> Also, this got away from me so I'm not sure I'm happy with how things turned out.

It is two weeks after Grantaire finds Eponine in that alley that his sister comes to visit. As per usual for the young and vivacious Selene, she arrives at her brother’s rooms unannounced and unaccompanied. Selene Grantaire, with her wide, blue eyes, cascade of raven-black hair and ever-cheery disposition is who one would call a merrymaker. She is also inordinately pretty.

So when she knocks on her brother’s rooms one late afternoon, the cold biting around her ankles as it swirls underneath her dress, it is an underestimation to say that Eponine is bewildered as she allows the beauty admittance into the sparsely-furnished rooms.

“May I help you?” asks Eponine, one arm curling protectively around her stomach as she sits with the girl in the parlour.

Selene, as of yet unidentified to the gamin, eyes her critically. She catalogues the slightly ill-fitting dress hanging off the girl’s frame, its low-cut bodice similar to what the girls her age are wearing these days and showing off her collarbones with stark clarity. Her hand extends forwards. “Selene Grantaire, pleasure to make your acquaintance…”

The gap at the end of the sentence prompts Eponine into offering her own name. “Eponine Thenardier, and the pleasure is mine. I did not know Grantaire has a sister.”

Selene smiles at her, teeth flashing white. “He is three years my elder and likes to pretend that the difference is ten and three years. I’m afraid I have to surprise him every now and then just to refresh his memory!” The trill of laughter that accompanies her words is clear like a bell, the sheer joyousness of it drawing a reluctant chuckle from Eponine.

Because she has manners, Selene does not ask Eponine what the girl is doing in her brother’s rooms. Eponine is very grateful for that – how would she explain that a man’s seed is quickening in her womb as they speak? Messieurs Grantaire and Joly knowing is rather embarrassing enough, not to mention the kindness Grantaire is doing her. When she’d roused from her fitful slumber after he’d found her, Eponine had tried to leave undetected only to be foiled by Grantaire. He then sat her down and explained that he will be taking care of her and her child, and no, she does not have to do anything to earn her keep.

“Well then, Mademoiselle Eponine, tell me: is my brother still spending his days laying about in Café Musain with his group of revolutionary friends?”

*

“Remi!” comes the call of his name, and really, Grantaire should know by now that nothing good comes from having someone call on him rather cheerfully before late noon, at the least.

“Selene!” the drunkard cries, standing up from the table he is seated at and almost toppling it in an effort to reach the girl standing on the threshold ofo the room the Amis hold meetings in. His arm wraps enthusiastically around her slight frame, lips moving to lay a tender kiss on his sister’s forehead.

They remain locked in an embrace for a few moments, both seemingly oblivious to the group of schoolboys staring at them in varying degrees of curiosity: from eager glee (Courfeyrac) to annoyed disinterest (Enjolras). 

When they break apart, Grantaire whirls to his friends with an arm cradling Selene’s waist. “I would like to introduce you to Les Amis de L’ABC.”

Courfeyrac is by their side in an instant, bowing to place a kiss to the smiling girl’s wrist. “Courfeyrac, very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

More laughter bubbles from Selene. Her eyes widen, highlighting the similarity between hers and Grantaire’s as they do so. “Oh! You’re the incorrigible flirt. I have heard about you.”

Grinning wickedly, Selene paces around the room. “You’re the hypochondriac, am I right? And you’re the perpetually unlucky one. Flowers in your hair? You must be Jean Prouvaire…”

The girl goes on to list each Amis member by characteristic or trait before stopping in front of Enjolras. Her brow wrinkles, lips pursing in confusion as she surveys him from head to toe, far more boldly than any girl her age could or should. “I’m sorry,” she says, voice lilting as her eyes slant dangerously towards her brother. “I do not believe I’ve been told of you.”

At her puzzled statement, nine pairs of questioning eyes shoot to Grantaire, who looks away with discomfort painted across his face. 

“My name is Enjolras,” the Apollo lookalike says to her. “You are Grantaire’s sister?”

She smiles at him, expression curious. “I am.”

A half of an hour later, Selene’s expression is still curious whenever she gazes upon the admittedly lovely Enjolras. She cannot decipher her brother’s stoic expression at all, and he refuses to make eye contact with her so she can understand the on-goings of his mind. As the blond man orates a speech so wonderfully she feels the stirrings of the need to help achieve change kindle within her, Selene absentmindedly recalls Grantaire’s letters to her. Not once does he mention an Enjolras, of that she is sure, yet her mind seems to conjure the memory of a wine-stained and barely legible letter received a little over a year ago. There was no mention of an Enjolras in that letter, either – however, the straining ink had formed the word Apollo.

And looking at the man still making his speech at the front of the room, Selene can see why Grantaire would refer to him as Apollo. He looks like a wrathful god descended from Mount Olympus to exact vengeance, beautiful and frightening and capable of being terrible. For as these epiphanies occur to her, Selene understands why this particular schoolboy has not been mentioned. It is obvious to anyone with eyes that Grantaire is foolhardily in love with Enjolras.

It is not until the meeting adjourned that Selene realises two things. The first, every Ami knows of her brother’s devotion to the golden leader. The second, none save the hypochondriac medical student know of Eponine living with Grantaire.

As Enjolras whirls around the room to gather input from his bespectacled lieutenant, Courfeyrac props his feet on a spare chair and leans towards the shyest of the schoolboys. “Marius! Where is your shadow, my friend? I have not seen her for weeks.”

Frowning in confusion, the freckled Marius says, “what shadow do you speak of, Courfeyrac? If this is another jest at my being a Bonapartist, pray, do not start such talks within hearing range of Enjolras-“  
The green-eyed jester laughs at Marius’ obvious discomfort. “No, I am not referring to your traitorous political inclinations. I am merely asking about the girl who trails behind you everywhere… Oh, what is her name? I am rather certain it starts with a letter E!”

The confusion clears from Marius’ face. “Oh! Eponine?”

Before Courfeyrac can reply, Selene leans forward into the conversation, smoothly interrupting the boys. “Not Eponine Thenardier?”

Courfeyrac turns towards her. “Yes, her. Do you know her?”

Selene blinks, innocent, as she reveals her brother’s secret unintentionally. “I met her this morning when I visited Remi’s rooms. I do believe she has been residing with him for some time. Did you not know?”

At her words, all eyes turn to Grantaire in shock for a second time that day. A flurry of noise erupts.

“Grantaire, what-“

“I do not believe that is a wise decis-“

“She is but a child, Grantaire-“

“I never expected this from you-“

Surprisingly, it is Joly who quiets the rowdy schoolboys, calling on them to kindly stay silent long enough for an explanation to be given. “It is not as it seems,” cries the flustered student. “Grantaire is not harming the girl in any way, nor is he being advantageous of the situation! In fact, he is helping the girl.”

Enjolras snorts derisively, angelic face contorted into a mask of disgust. That Grantaire does not try to clear himself seems to be proving a point to the leader. “Helping her! In what way, pray tell? How would a drunken layabout help the Thenardier girl?”

Selene, enraged that Enjolras can be so cruel, stands up furiously as her face reddens. “My brother is not a drunkard or a layabaout! He is a respected artist-“

“I am with child!”

The room at large turns to find the girl in question standing at the top of the stairs that lead downstairs to the rest of the café. Her tattered dress has been replaced with something far fancier than a gamin could afford, and her face and hair are free of the grime that coated them for so long. Once again, her arms are curled around her stomach tenderly.

Finally, Grantaire clambers to his feet. “Before you throw accusations at me, I am not the father of the babe.”

Bossuet looks at Joly curiously. “You knew of this?”

Wearily, the hypochondriac rubs a hand over his face before answering. “Yes. I examined Eponine two weeks ago. Grantaire has taken her in as she does not have anywhere else to go and the streets are no place to raise a child.”

Silence hangs in the air, thick and deafening.

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd, so I'm really sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> Comments and kudos always welcome!
> 
> I'm always loitering around on tumblr. Find me at enjolraspermitsit.tumblr.com


End file.
